Fear and Self-loathing
by SixesandSevens
Summary: The group has escaped Terminus, but Daryl is still overcome with guilt over Beth's abduction.
1. Chapter 1

_AN: To those reading Paying the Price, don't worry that story is not abandoned. I know I haven't updated it in a while, for which I apologize. Now I'll just have two WIPs to keep up with, lol. Anyway, I don't really know where this came from. The angst bug hit me I guess. I hope you enjoy! :)_

He couldn't put it off any longer. He had to tell her. He hadn't really had time to dread the moment up until now, and now that he did, he was nearly panicked at the prospect. But it had to be done. He knew it did. It was going to wreck her, and no doubt she'd blame him. He did. But he couldn't keep it to himself. Maggie deserved to know what had happened to her sister.

Daryl let his gaze linger on the trees from where he stood on the porch, putting off the inevitable just a little while longer. The cabin they'd found was in disrepair, but it was big enough for all of them, boasting the extravagance of four bedrooms. And above all, it was shelter, thank god. After the trials of escaping Terminus, and the cold that now constantly permeated the air, they damn well needed it. They were still deciding if it was worth the risk to hole up there for a few days, or if it'd be their home for tonight and tonight only.

Getting out of Terminus hadn't been easy, they were all bruised and battered, a few of them injured. Michonne had gotten shot in the arm. That hulking brick-house of a man; what was his name? Abraham. He'd taken a knife wound, stabbed right through his hand. And Daryl, himself, had been grazed by a bullet on his left calf. But they'd all made it. And that had to count for something, right? He figured it should. But he couldn't bring himself to feel any emotion. Just this numbing coldness and an ever deepening sense of guilt that seemed to arise from his very soul, crushing his chest and leaving him breathless.

There'd been no casualties on their side, and of course, he was glad of that. They'd actually managed to take out several of the Termites before fleeing into the woods, only stopping long enough to retrieve the duffel of weapons Rick had buried. Then it was just running and running and running. All through the night, into the next day. Reminding him too much of another time he'd run like that not so many days ago. Only this time instead of chasing he was being chased. They had to assume they'd be pursued, so when they finally did stop it was only for two hours, then they were off again; this time walking with bursts of jogging throughout, trying to put as much distance between them and that place of horror as quickly as they could.

Time blurred and smeared together. Daryl couldn't keep track of the days they went on like that. Three, four… seven? Hell, he didn't have a clue. Just trying to stay alive coupled with wounds he had no time to properly tend, and dealing with his inner turmoil had left him reeling and blind to all else but their desperate flight. Giving him too much time to think. Launching his mind back to everything, back to _her. _

And then, all at once, they'd stepped out into a small clearing revealing a cabin settled in the middle of the woods, the tree line encroaching on it from all sides giving no more than twenty yards of unobscured visibility in all directions, punching him back to the here and now.

That was an hour ago at least, and now that they'd gotten settled in for the night, Daryl found himself outside, lingering, distracting himself with thoughts of how overcast the day was even though it was only barely noon, how the charge in the air and the scent of ozone promised rain in the near future, and trying to work out how in the hell he was going to tell Maggie he'd fucked up once again. That he'd gone and lost her little sister. Resigning himself to his fate, he heaved a weary sigh and turned to enter the house. Standing outside the bedroom Glenn and Maggie occupied, he faltered, thinking maybe he should wait until morning. Let them rest before he threw this particular bombshell at them.

No.

It had to be now. Tomorrow was uncertain, hell the next minute was uncertain. He'd learned that lesson the hard way more than once. He didn't know if he'd get another chance to tell her. So before he could pussy out and change his mind, he quickly rapped on the door and waited, fidgeting nervously.

The door opened to reveal the couple looking tired and anxious, thinking trouble had befallen them again no doubt. Well, they may have preferred that once he was done with them.

"Daryl? What is it?" Glenn's voice reflected the worry in Maggie's face. The guilt pressed down on him a little harder.

"I… uh," He was fumbling for words, shifting from foot to foot. Not exactly surprising, he'd never been one for eloquent speeches. Something important, something heavy, needing said never failed to turn him into a bumbling idiot. And he could tell he was starting to freak them out. They knew his little visit heralded nothing pleasant.

"Why don't you come on in?" Maggie said stepping back from the door as Glenn opened it wider allowing him entrance and shutting it behind him once he'd stepped past them. He kept his back to them, could feel the heat of their combined stare bore into him, could feel their concern like it was a tangible thing. He wondered if normal people felt comforted by inciting the concern of others, he felt only shame. Overwhelming shame. When he finally turned to face them, he couldn't meet their eyes at first, his gaze flickering about the room uneasily.

"It's just that…" God. How was he supposed to say this? Looking past Glenn, he locked eyes with Maggie. "I gotta tell ya something. About Beth."

Maggie's eyes widened in blatant fear. Before this moment, there was no certainty of Beth's fate. Not for Maggie anyway. Surely she knew Beth may not have escaped the Governor's attack, but she may have. Not knowing was a double edged sword, agonizing in its uncertainty, yet comforting for that exact same reason. And he'd just taken that from her.

"Beth?" Her voice sounded strangled, her eyes filling with tears, and Daryl looked down at the floor. This was his fault. If he'd just checked the door, if he'd been faster, if he'd done something… _anything_ different, Maggie wouldn't be feeling this pain right now.

Suddenly Maggie was directly in front of him, clutching at his arms desperately, shaking him. "Daryl? Daryl! What happened? Where's Beth?"

Taking a steadying breath, he looked up at her and he could see her breaking a little more inside throughout his story. "We got out together. Just me and her. It was like that for a while. And then… we were holed up in this funeral home. She'd hurt her ankle earlier in the day that we found it, and it was secure enough, it had food, so we'd stayed a couple days. Letting her heal up. But a herd got in. She was still limping and there was too many, so I told her to run, that I'd meet her at the road and I led 'em off. When I got to the road our bag was there, but she wasn't."

Before he had the chance to finish, Glenn broke in, voice hushed and cracked in grief. "Walkers got her?"

Daryl closed his eyes in remorse. He really didn't know which was a bigger failure, letting her get grabbed by walkers, or by living assailants. It really didn't change anything. Either way, she was gone. He had failed them, Beth most of all. Sweet, shining Beth. Lost and at the mercy of god-only-knows what kind of deranged fucks. Yeah, letting the living take her, that was worse.

"No." He whispered, his throat constricting so tightly it threatened to cut off his air supply. "I didn't see who it was, just the car. They already had her when I got there. I ran after it, but… I couldn't keep up. I… I lost her."

There was shocked silence for several beats. Without warning, but not without merit, Maggie slapped him hard across the face. The force of it was enough to snap his head to the side, yet he barely felt the sting in his cheek.

"Maggie!" Glenn shouted appalled, and grabbed her hands, unnecessarily stilling any other attempts at her assault. She didn't appear like she planned on hitting him again, not that he didn't deserve it. Her eyes were cold and hard on his.

"Get. Out." Daryl had heard her speak with that kind of venom in her voice before, but it'd never been directed at him. He was almost surprised that it didn't even hurt. Not the slap, not her words, not the poison in her stare. He was too numb for it to hurt.

He was aware of Glenn clutching Maggie to his chest as she dissolved into sobs, staring at him apologetically over her head as he slowly trudged to the door, shoulders bowed in defeat. But it didn't matter. Maggie was right to blame him. Glenn would see that soon enough.

He stopped with his hand on the doorknob, kept his face toward the door. "I'm sorry, Maggie." Her cries grew louder at his words, and he left the room quickly after that, leaving her to her misery.

Once in the hallway, he leaned against the wall heavily. He felt like he was suffocating, choking on the guilt and shame. He couldn't stay here. He had to get out. Out into the open where the walls weren't closing in around him. With an abruptness that belied the lethargy he could feel consuming him, he'd pushed himself away from the wall before he even knew what he was doing, and made his way outside. And damn-it all, he should have known it was just too easy as Rick's voice stopped him on the threshold of his escape.

"What are you doing?" The worry in Rick's voice made him feel sick. He didn't deserve Rick's concern, or anyone else's for that matter.

"Going hunting." He'd hoped Rick would let the issue drop, but the man just followed him outside.

"Right now? It can wait, come back inside."

"It can't wait. People gotta eat."

"Daryl, you haven't slept in days!" Rick called to his retreating back. "And you're injured."

"Ain't tired. And my leg's fine."

Lie.

He was utterly exhausted. Both physically and mentally. But he couldn't stop, not now. Not ever. If he did, he wasn't sure he'd find the strength to ever move again, and then where would they be? He may be a sorry piece of shit, but the group depended on him. He could provide food. At least he could still do that much. He wouldn't go so far as to say he could keep the safe. Obviously he couldn't. He'd let the Governor stroll right up to their doors and tear their lives to shreds. He'd let Beth…

There was so much blood was on his hands, they might as well have been stained red. Tyreese, Lizzie, Mika, and all the others they'd saved from Woodbury. Hershel, Judith… Beth. So he ignored Rick's calls and faded into the woods.


	2. Chapter 2

_AN: I wanted to thank everyone for reading this and for the feedback, I'd been yo-yoing on whether or not this story was worthy of being posted on here, but I'm glad I did. So here's the next chapter and I hope you all enjoy! :) The next time I post an update it'll be or Paying the Price for those of you who are wondering when that will get an update._

Somehow, without even really trying, he'd managed to bag three squirrels and a rabbit. Not much for all the hungry mouths back at camp, but better than nothing. With any luck, he could forgo his own dinner without anyone noticing, sparing that much more meat for the others. He didn't feel much like eating anyway. He may have told Rick his purpose for this outing was to go hunting, and he realized he should probably actually do just that, but really he'd just wanted some air, and had been more or less wandering aimlessly for the past several hours. It'd been sheer dumb luck that he'd stumbled across the critters at all.

No matter. He'd provided the group some food, and taken care of the so called 'hunting' portion of his escapade. Done and done.

The sun had drifted across the sky as he'd been drifting through the woods beneath it, and dusk was well on its way. He was flirting with the idea of heading back, knew he should, that while he wasn't lying when he'd said his leg didn't hurt – because it didn't then and it still didn't now – he was still beginning to stumble, his pace lagging, exhaustion and stress rearing their ugly heads and demanding attention. Attention he was unwilling to give. So instead he completely shut his mind down, just flipped a switch, turned it off and went blank. And rather than turning back he continued on, knowing full well he was a fool for being out here to begin with, weary and distracted. But it was what it was, and here he was.

Time was losing meaning again as he trudged about uncaringly. He was supposed to be out here clearing his head; nature had always had a calming effect on him, but it seemed like this time it was achieving the exact opposite goal, leading him deeper down the road of despair. It wasn't like him to just give up, and he was really trying not to, but he could feel himself drowning in regret, in his failures. He may still be living in theory, but inside he was just as dead as the walkers.

He could feel the self-pity winning. Wouldn't Merle be proud of him now?

Yet another failure to tack onto his less than impressive list of accomplishments. Dixon's did not let themselves get beat down.

But… every man had a breaking point, didn't they?

He hadn't even realized that it was full on dark until the rain began beating down on him, coming down in torrents and drowning all sound but the water slapping on leaves and undergrowth. It should be cold, he figured, but it was just another thing he was numb to. Whatever. Add it to the list. It took more effort than it rightly should, but he finally turned around, not really coming to the decision to head back, but doing it anyway lest Rick have an aneurysm when he failed to show. If it weren't for that, he might not even bother. They'd probably be better off anyway.

Miles disappeared behind him, step after step, and the cabin was still a long way off. He was thoroughly drenched at this point, not that he gave a shit, but his jeans were weighing him down and he was just so tired. He didn't want to give in to it, but when he lost his footing and slid to his knees in the mud, that was it. Game over. He'd known better than to stop, that he'd never get going again. And what do you know? He was finally right about something for once. He sat back on his haunches, fully exposed, and between the darkness, rain and his own devastation, he was completely blind and deaf to any danger that may come creeping along. And he couldn't even find it in himself to care. At all. Suddenly he finally felt a spark of something through the disconnection he couldn't seem to get past. Hatred. Deep seeded and terrifying in its ferocity, directed at himself. Well that was something he was familiar with, self-loathing and detachment. It almost felt like home. If he'd had it in himself to feel anything, he might have laughed at that, or cried. As it was, he couldn't seem to bring himself to do much of anything, so he just sat where he'd fallen, the storm raging all around him. Let the world cry for him.

* * *

The fingers of dawn's light caressing the edges of the night sky snapped him back to some semblance of awareness. He'd been sitting out here all night. He hadn't slept, but he hadn't really been awake either, just drifting in some sort of dreamlike state of… nothingness. Unthinking. Unfeeling. Just existing.

Dead and alive all at once.

A fresh wave of guilt washed over him as he realized just how long he'd been there. He hadn't moved a muscle since he'd collapsed into the mud, and really it was about the last thing in the world he wanted to do, but if he didn't get his worthless ass back soon Rick would come looking, assuming he hadn't already. And Daryl really couldn't deal with the idea of someone else getting hurt on his account. It took a tremendous amount of effort, but he managed to get up and moving. His legs were stiff and unwieldy after having sat on them for hours on end, and maybe that numbness was finally wearing off a little, because his head felt unnaturally heavy and there was a sharp, persistent throbbing in his temples.

He wasn't making very good time, his progress slow and halting, his waterlogged clothes weighing him down, the equally drenched animals tied in bandolier fashion with a fraying rope seemed heavier than they should be. It'd escaped his notice as he'd knelt in the woods, but at some point the rain had let up to a steady drizzle, and now the temperature was dropping quickly, a chill wind whipping up. He only had about a half mile left to go when the rain morphed into sleet, pelting his face. Getting in his eyes. But he hardly felt the sting. In fact, he really wasn't even cold. Somewhere in his fuzzy mind, he reflected that that was probably a bad thing.

What did it matter? He was a lost cause. He'd pretty much come to terms with that by now. He just had to get back to the others, make sure the idiots didn't get themselves killed trying to find him. He'd give them the food and… then what?

Just leave? Sure, except Rick would fight him on it. His self-proclaimed brother was harder now, ready and willing to do _anything_ necessary without preamble, but when it came to one of the group he just wouldn't let go without a fight.

But then…

Rick had let Carol go. He'd banished her.

So there you had it. Daryl _would_ just leave. If Rick thought Carol was a danger to them, then surely he could see that Daryl was a liability. Sooner or later, he'd get someone else hurt or killed until they'd all dropped off like flies and…

_You'll be the last man standing._

No. She was wrong. She had to be. If he left, they'd be okay. If he left, he couldn't drag them down.


End file.
